


On the Horizon

by Rvlakia



Series: The Elder Kind [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Dragons, Fluff, High Fantasy, M/M, Old Writing, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 14:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11922384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rvlakia/pseuds/Rvlakia
Summary: They had first heard the rumours when they had been wandering the middle city, from a merchant passing through. ‘A great dragon’, he had exclaimed when they prompted him to tell more, ‘a wild, vicious dragon of the Elder Kind’.As part of a brutal royal line, Plyrith has to do whatever he can if he wants to snatch the crown away from his countless brothers. Slaying a dragon would certainly put him in the king's good graces, but finding the right kill is more danger than most would dare. Not to mention all manner of unpredictability could befall a prince way out on the kingdom border.





	On the Horizon

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for my friend Michi back in 2015, so utilises her OCs (though not in the setting she intended). If I'm quite honest, I just wanted to write about dragons :3
> 
> (It should also be noted that I am no bueno at romance so... yeah)

The grainy stone was rough beneath him as Plyrith lounged in an archway overlooking the main courtyard, chill wind whipping his umber hair about his face almost to the point of stinging. Down below a carriage was rattling in, pulled by a single dull looking bay and carrying only a coachman and footman, the latter of whom jumped off the moment they came to rest and began neatening any aspect of the vehicle he could, though not much of an improvement could be made. It was hardly an equipage worthy of royalty, but given that the king barely considered his children as such it was only to be expected.

Plyrith knew what was happening, like everyone in the castle did. One of his sisters – half-sisters – exited the building and made her way almost hurriedly to the carriage, her bare feet visible for a second as she hastened despite the long dress trailing on the muddied cobblestone.  How old was this one? He didn’t know for sure but would hazard a guess of about ten summers, with a vague recollection of her name being ‘Jesa’ or the like. One could consider her fate as either lucky or unlucky, depending on their point of view, but the fact of the matter was that King Etarip was casting aside yet another of his daughters whom he didn’t care for. This one was going to a convent in the far reaches of the kingdom, if he remembered correctly. There wasn’t the faintest stirring of sorrow in Plyrith’s heart as he watched her carriage leave; familial bonds were not viewed as particularly important in this monarchy.

Plyrith himself was a prince in name only – his older brothers stole the majority of their father’s attention, while the younger of them lay in their shadows knowing they would either die or be left with nothing when the king finally passed. Everything was to go to the crown prince, to do with as he wished. Plyrith doubted that whichever one of them finally snatched the position would be so kind as to grace his lessers with land or money. It just wasn’t how things worked around here. And, of course, their sisters were not eligible to succeed the crown either. He didn’t need anyone to tell him to know that there was something abnormal about his family’s customs.

High above, a hunting bird was circling, gaining altitude. It must have been released from within the surrounding city, which meant that the kestrel (even from this distance, he was almost certain it was a kestrel) didn’t have much longer to live; soon the guardsmen’s Vipers would be released, enforcing the law of ‘no birds at quarry in the city limits’.  Whichever knave had made the mistake would soon be located and punished accordingly. “Idiot,” Plyrith muttered to himself, wondering how anyone could be so stupid as to break such a basic law. Birds were near worthless to the nobility and upper classes but were integral to the lives of peasants, or so he’d been told.

“You’ll catch yourself a cold, sitting there.” The smooth voice prompted him to turn his attention to the inside of the castle, immediately sighting the smirk on his addressor’s face. She came to a stop a pace away, gazing at the scenery past his head with her hands clasped serenely on the folds of her dress. Cardinal red locks tumbled loosely over her shoulders, telling him that she had not made an appearance in court today else it would all be trussed up in a fine netting.

“I’m not one to catch illnesses,” Plyrith replied, shrugging. “You know that.”

“Am I not allowed to express my concern? Should I retire all free thought for your benefit? Perhaps I shall fret over everything _but_ you.”

“Yes that’s quite enough,” he chuckled, thoroughly amused by her melodramatic impression of her female companions in the court. Princess Talutah came from a small country that bordered his, unworthy of the time of the king had it not been for the presence of a reputably powerful witch residing there. Though the army paled in comparison to Etarip’s, she alone could have dealt serious damage if inclined to, hence a marriage had quickly been arranged in order to keep relations cordial. One day Plyrith had had no responsibilities – the next he found himself engaged to the most powerful woman currently in the kingdom, Talutah. Not that he minded; quite unexpectedly, he found they actually got along very well. Her sharp wit and scathing opinions of the pompous courtiers surrounding them kept him delightfully distracted through these cold months. There was no love between them, no more than friendship, but he couldn’t think of anyone better for him to marry. One day the king would come to regret matching them, he would make sure of it.

“Do you think it will be a long winter?” the witch asked, leaning on the wall beside his archway.

“I hope not. I’d like to get out there before anything can change.”

“Of course. It’s not every day that one gets the chance to slay a dragon.” He could feel her grinning in excitement even without seeing her face.

They had first heard the rumours when they had been wandering the middle city, from a merchant passing through. ‘A great dragon’, he had exclaimed when they prompted him to tell more, ‘a wild, vicious dragon of the Elder Kind’. The pair of them had been intrigued from the first word, but that sold it for them – both for different reasons, obviously. A dragon of the Elder Kind hadn’t been seen in these lands since the times of Plyrith’s great grandfather when they had finally been hunted to extinction, and very few records remained. Oh but they were definitely powerful. All tales stressed their power, but none specified just how _much_ power they had. So Talutah wanted its body for her spells, and Plyrith wanted its head for his own prestige. None of his brothers would pursue it for fear of losing their lives – to them it wasn’t worth risking their current standing. But for Plyrith it was a chance to leap into the foreground of his father’s court and mind and set him well on the way to being crowned the next monarch of Croath.

So they had made plans to seek the dragon, foiled only by winter settling early. Now they were stuck, awaiting spring so that they might finally leave for the mountain range that separated this kingdom from Heneru – dangerous, tumultuous lands rife with skirmishes for the very ground one stood upon. But still.

An _Elder Kind_!

Plyrith still wasn’t sure if he was dreaming.

 

                                                                                                                     

* * *

 

 

“No esquire?” asked the witch as she waited for Plyrith to ready their transport.

“Absolutely not,” he snorted. “As if I could trust any of those bumblers to not get eaten on the job. Besides, I’m perfectly capable of doing this myself.” He tightened the girth straps, thanking the stars that his mount had perfectly spaced spines for a double saddle. Most of the gentry thought it utter foolishness to use a battledragon for ordinary riding purposes but the princes were almost expected to be radical, hence the lack of complaint when Plyrith chose to use his trusted companion Ulise.

Talutah watched closely as he fed the dragon the snaffle, intrigued by his choice of species. Back in her country no one would have ever dreamed of using a Jekyll as an everyday horse – they were bred for war, berserkers in the truest sense. Plyrith’s was calm as of right now, looking practically harmless with his rich forest green scaling, but she had no doubt that he was fully capable of protecting them both if worst came to worst.

“You sure you don’t mind?” Plyrith asked as he finished with the tack. “It’s not exactly the most comfortable of rides.”

“I can handle it better than you can,” she smirked, gesturing for him to give her a helping hand onto the beast, purely for the sake of propriety. Once seated she lightly sketched a rune onto the saddle to keep her from falling; even she would admit that riding side-saddle on a battledragon was a terrible idea, for anyone but herself of course. She patiently waited for the prince to join her, noting a cluster of snowdrops just outside the gate of the stable. Plyrith pulled the reins lightly to turn Ulise on the spot and then led them out into the courtyard at slow walk, taking care not to startle anyone in case it set the Jekyll off. As they passed beneath the great gate, a good three metres taller than everyone else, Talutah let out a low whistle and a far smaller dragon swooped down from the eaves to land on her shoulder.

“I was wondering where he got to,” Plyrith chuckled, glancing back over his shoulder before hastily returning his attention to the front, just in time to prevent them smashing an apple cart. Talutah grinned as she gave her pet a gentle scratch beneath his jaw.

In vast contrast to the beast they were riding, the Whistler was no bigger than a falcon, but he stood out in his own way thanks to his unusual orange-through-red colouration, a nigh unheard of scaling among his species. When the commoners they passed were done staring at Ulise they would soon be enraptured by Bana, who fussed himself proudly in the limelight. She’d found him nearly five years ago now, fallen from his home when his roostmates had begun to fly. His unique colour had come with a price – a mutation in the bones that gave him a half-wing on both sides, rendering him incapable of flight. She had crafted a spell for him, despite much protestation from her father about bringing a wild dragon into their home, so as long as he wore the small pendant she had enchanted he could soar as much as his heart desired. Now Bana felt like an extension of herself.

“Here we go,” Plyrith warned as they left the city limits. He gave Ulise a sharp kick and they were leaping through the plains at a whirlwhind of a pace, red hair streaming out behind them. Sometimes he wondered if he would enjoy travelling more if he used a dragon capable of flight, but then he would remember this feeling of hurtling toward the end of the Earth and would dismiss all doubts.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The sun was beginning to touch the ground when Ulise began to slow.

 _“I tire, Horizonborne,”_ the dragon whispered into his mind, though the telepathic communication wasn’t exactly necessary for Plyrith to realise this. _“We shall rest.”_ As ever, Ulise did as he wished to do and stopped running entirely, making for an overhang below a moss-coated rock formation. Plyrith hopped off and Talutah did the same, so that the beast could curl up comfortably without hurting either of them. Once he’d settled, Plyrith unhooked their supplies and laid out the bedrolls, giving Talutah the extra blanket as he would be using the heat his large companion generated in excess to keep from freezing during the night.

“What’s for dinner?” the princess asked expectantly, settling on her bedroll with not an ounce of intention to provide any food.

“Cold soup.” He shook a sealed container at her until she grabbed it away.

“Ah, my favourite,” she replied, sarcasm thick in her tone. She set the container on the ground and let Bana flame, instantly warming the fluid enough for her to eat it in comfort. Plyrith raised an eyebrow.

“Is that a limited privilege or can I partake in a hot dinner too?”

She pretended to think about it for a moment and then waved Bana forward, focussing on actually consuming her own food. It was odd how travelling made a person more tired than even a day’s hard labour, but now wasn’t the time to ponder the logistics of it.

With dinner over the pair readied themselves to sleep, Plyrith placing his bedroll right beside Ulise and Talutah nestling by a boulder a few metres away, just within radius to catch some of the warmth rolling from the Jekyll’s body. Bana alighted on the stone and titled his head as he stared at her. _“I shall keep watch,”_ he murmured.

 _“My gratitude, Chasing the Crows,”_ she replied, using his full Agnomen as one ought to do when communicating via the mind. Dragons were sentient to only a small degree, but a large portion of that awareness was dedicated to the proper titling of things; for example, only those with the dragon’s approval were allowed to speak their true Agnomen aloud, thus the need for a second, universal name decided by the owner.

 _“Sleep well, Firelighter.”_ Bana unfurled his wings and took off, circling around to a higher vantage so that he could cover more ground with his sharp gaze. Talutah smiled as he went, proud of the name he had chosen to call her by – likely because of her penchant for pyrotechnics in her younger years. The title made her feel secure for some reason that she could never fathom. It just felt right.

Plyrith was being lulled into sleep by the steady breathing of his battledragon when he heard Talutah whispering something to him. “Speak up,” he instructed, just in case it was something important.

“What’s Ulise’s Agnomen?” she repeated, rolling her eyes at his inability to hear her. “You never said.”

He hesitated, wondering if this was the right time, then concluded that it was only fair since she had already provided him with Bana’s. “Keeper of the Wild. Why?” She never asked a question with no reason, and he was curious as to what had caught her interest now.

“I wonder whether the Elder Kind have different Agnomina from modern dragons,” she admitted. “They’ve been around since the beginning of time, so I can only imagine how advanced they might have been.”

“Perhaps they had none at all,” Plyrith posited. “Dragons don’t exactly socialise in the wild, and they say the naming customs only exist because of the effects of domestication, even in wild populations thanks to escaped pets.”

“Maybe so,” she conceded. Silence fell between them as they finally drifted off to sleep, Plyrith dreaming about what his quarry might look like and subconsciously gripping the hilt of his sword in anticipation.

 

 

* * *

 

 

No one could quite decide if Fallholt was a village or a town, for it seemed to lie just between the two. Plyrith didn’t care either way – all that bothered him was that this settlement was the closest to the lair of the Elder Kind, or so he had gathered from the stories. Their journey had taken a good five days, all for them to wind up in this little town-village in the back of beyond. It seemed fairly peaceful from a distance, so the pair made the decision to leave the rather noticeable Jekyll in the surrounding fir forest where he could blend in and not scare any of the locals. Bana came with them so they could send for the battledragon if necessary. Talutah cast a light illusion over her companion so that he appeared a dull grey colour, for even though Whistlers were abundant throughout the country there were none as bright as he was, and they didn’t want to attract any unneeded attention.

“This is a village,” Plyrith decided as they wandered through the wide, dirt streets. “They may have a full market and a town hall, but nothing here is made from stone.”

“So it’s the building materials that determine its status?” Talutah seemed sceptical of his decision.

“No – _I_ determine its status.” Plyrith grinned, flaunting his powerful birth-right even if it meant little yet.

“My liege, if you are finished with your civic duties, I suggest we do what we actually came here to do and gather information,” she mocked, not caring in the slightest about his royal blood – after all, her kingdom might be smaller, but she was still a princess.

Plyrith sighed irritably. “Let’s split up then. You trawl for information here, and I’ll see if I can find any indication of the lair nearby.” He glanced at a building they had just passed. “We’ll meet back at that inn tonight.”

Talutah nodded and turned aside, glad she had chosen to wear a shorter dress than usual so that it wouldn’t trail in the muddied paths. Plyrith stretched the muscles in his back before making his way out of the town again, eyes set on the closest mountain for his starting point. Even amongst his siblings Plyrith had high physical capabilities, so could cover far more ground on foot than any normal person would be able to. Perhaps it was odd for a nobleman to not become overweight from the rich foods they were able to consume, but in his family one had to be ready for any brother to turn to violent means in order to advance his own position. The strongest survived – that was just how it was.

As the trees began to thin out at the mountain’s base the prince found himself needing to make a decision about his subsequent path. If the dragon were a lighter, flight-capable breed then heading up would be a priority, but if it were heavier (though not necessarily flightless) he would want to stay close to the ground to find any caves or haunts accessible by a beast at least twice his size. The stories had been inconsistent about the actual appearance of the dragon, and focussed on its vicious nature; homes destroyed, livestock shredded, water sources polluted by the uneaten remains of human bodies. It was a mean thing, that was for sure. He decided to walk the base.

Hours passed with no change in surroundings, and Plyrith was beginning to wonder if he should turn back for today. The sun was hanging low in the sky so returning now would get him back just in time to meet with Talutah as promised. As long as he took note of where he had progressed to, tomorrow he could continue from where he left off by riding Ulise out to that point, with more information about the creature. His planning left his mind wandering from where he stepped, and Plyrith was caught off guard as the loose shingle gave way beneath his feet and he slid a good thirty metres into a hollow that for some reason he hadn’t been able to see from his vantage.

“Ouch,” Plyrith muttered, dusting himself off where he sat and checking for any serious injuries. It seemed the extent was just scratches and the promise of bruising, but he wouldn’t choose to take that path again. Satisfied with his health he finally got to his feet and took note of his surroundings, not failing to see the gaping maw of a cave entrance where the rock of the mountain protruded slightly into the hollow. He took a small step toward it, the sound of something snapping beneath his feet immediately causing him to look down. Bones. Deer bones, from the size of them. They’d been here a while, picked completely clean by scavengers. It seemed he had found his quarry quite by accident.

Far more cautious now, Plyrith edged toward the cave entrance, a risky motion he only decided to go through with because the wind was a south-westerly, keeping his scent from being blown into the lair and alerting its inhabitant. The entrance was fast approaching but he could still not see the dragon inside, for within a couple of metres the cave fell to near complete darkness. Against his better judgement he took a few steps into the actual lair, the wind and sounds of nature cutting out in the most unnerving of ways. Eyes adjusting, he could finally make out a hefty mass sat almost perfectly still, unnoticeable if it weren’t for the gentle motion of breathing. If that was the size of the dragon then he had little to worry about, for it was only the height of a grown elk, which sounded like a difficult fight but he’d met far worse in the battledragon rings.

Wait.

Something was off about the shape, it wasn’t anything like any dragon he’d seen before. Another few steps closer clarified the structure and Plyrith felt himself paling as he realised that what he’d focussed on was only the tail’s crest. Not good.

In a moment of panic the prince stumbled backward, sending a stone skittering loudly across the cave floor. A rumbling began to emit from the space behind the crest as the dragon stirred, finally allowing Plyrith to see the true position of its curled and previously sleeping body. Forgoing any semblance of stealth, he made a wild dash for the exit, the grumbling increasing in intensity as the dragon awoke and sought after him. Blinking frantically as he entered sunlight again, Plyrith hurtled into the trees and crouched behind one, desperately trying to manage his breathing so that the dragon wouldn’t hear his position. The heavy thudding of feet made the ground tremble as the dragon half-exited the cave, pausing at the entrance as it tried to locate any sign of the intruder. His curious side taking over now the panic had died down a little, Plyrith leant around the tree to get a better look whilst being careful not to let too much of himself show.

It felt like he’d been punched in the gut. None of the stories could have done justice to the creature he was staring at now, fixated by every feature of it. The scaling was nothing short of beautiful, pure gold catching the failing light of the sun and magnifying it, like the dragon itself was shining from the inside. And it was _huge_ , easily seven or eight times his own height, and made of pure muscle; it barely fit through the cave entrance that Plyrith had once thought large. Even a Titan, the largest breed alive, was no match for this monstrosity. Well, he supposed Titans weren’t actually the largest breed then. What was truly a surprise though, was that it wasn’t flightless – its wings extended from the front legs and were folded tightly right now, but he could only imagine what kind of span they would have. Very few species had such a wing type, most having a separate third set of limbs or only having thumbs on the front legs, and never a full five-toed claw. But this one did.

Plyrith couldn’t help a tiny gasp as the head swung his way, entrancing blue eyes still not finding him. On the crown of its head the gold scales broke into a black formation that resembled a cross. The beast’s lips pulled back and the prince covered his ears just in time to prevent the bone-rattling roar it let out from deafening him. It was a warning call, a territory marker, like any other wild dragon, but also a sign of resignation. The dragon slunk back into its lair, still furtively glancing around but content that whatever had wandered into its home would not be doing so again. Plyrith let out a deep sigh and slumped against the tree, adrenaline fading from his system as he marvelled at the utter magnificence of the creature.

How on _Earth_ was he going to kill it?

 

 

* * *

 

  

“Please tell me you have a good reason why you’re late?” Talutah scolded as Plyrith finally made his way to her table at the inn. “I got us rooms already, so don’t worry about– are you unwell? You’re shaking.”

“If you had seen what I had,” Plyrith began, waving over a serving girl so that he could grab someone else’s ale from her tray, “then you’d know that I have never felt more alive or terrified in my life.”

Her eyes widened. “You found it then?” Even Bana shuffled closer across the table, squawking for answers.

“Yes. I tell you, I’ve never seen anything like it. There’s no way I can defeat it on my own.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she reminded him. “Tell me of it then; is it sentient or not?”

“I didn’t stick around long enough to find out,” Plyrith admitted. “I saw plenty of bones around the lair, and a fair few of them were human, so I can say for certain it’s carnivorous. It’s far bigger than a Titan, but it seems to be capable of flight, so I can’t imagine how much it needs to eat to get enough energy.”

Talutah leant forward, placing her elbow on the table and her chin on her hand. “Fascinating. You made sure to mark your location?”

Plyrith snorted. “What do you take me for? Of course I did. Now tell me what you found.”

“My day was far less exciting I’m afraid. It seems the dragon was peaceful until five moons back, unconcerning enough that only the locals knew of its existence and even then some didn’t believe it was anything more than a fanciful tale. Obviously they know better now.”

“But there must be someone who knows more about it?”

“Some of the merchants mentioned meeting a priestess on their previous trips. Apparently she would enter the woods each day to maintain order, and rumour has it she talks with the dragon, persuades it to stay away.”

“Then we ought to find her,” Plyrith concluded. “If she knows the beast perhaps she can tell us the weaknesses.”

“As I thought. But the locals seem to deny her existence. I’m hoping for better luck tomorrow.”

Plyrith took a swig of his ale, making a sound of agreement as he set it back on the table. “I’ll return to the cave tomorrow as well. See if I can work out its habits.”

 

 

* * *

 

  

It was bright even in the thick of the forest the following day, and Plyrith found he kept having to shield his eyes from the sun every other second. He halted Ulise about a league from the lair in order to reduce the chance that the dragon would sense him and attack, instructing the Jekyll to stay where he was until Plyrith could return. Then he set off on foot, more confident now that he knew how far he was going. As the sun rose higher he became hotter, finally realising that he needed to cool down if he didn’t want to die from heatstroke. It was inconvenient but there was no way around it. Following the slant of the ground he was led to a small waterfall that fed into a crystal clear pool of water before it carried on through the undergrowth as a particularly noisy brook. He knelt beside the water to make sure there was nothing wrong with it before scooping some up and drinking.

“Wonderful,” he muttered to himself, grinning at the coolness. Inconvenience had become unexpected delight as he splashed his face with the water too and, deciding that wasn’t quite enough, pulled his shirt of and soaked it in the pool so that he could stay cooler for longer. He lifted it out and wrung it, but as he was about to put it back on he glanced up out of instinct and found his gaze meeting someone else’s. He froze.

It was a young man, maybe his about his own age, with the most startling blue eyes and long blond hair that partially covered them yet couldn’t stop their intensity. His clothes were plain and unremarkable beside the fact that his shirt was several sizes too large, as though it didn’t belong to him. He was perfectly still, staring at Plyrith from the other side of the pool where he stood, barefoot, toes curled into the moss on the rocks.

“Who are you?” the man queried, speaking hoarsely the first time but then with more authority the second. “Who are you?”

“I’m not here to hurt you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Plyrith said as he stood, making sure he moved slowly so that he wouldn’t scare the man. What was he doing out here? Did he not know about the dragon? “My name is Plyrith. You are…?”

The man looked him up and down as if to gauge whether he was worth answering. “Massa,” he replied eventually, relaxing slightly as he decided the prince wasn’t going to hurt him. “What are you doing out here?” Plyrith couldn’t help but notice how little his eyes moved, as though he had no care for anything else going on right now but their conversation.

“I could ask the same of you. Don’t you know it’s dangerous in these parts?”

Massa snorted in derision. “I can take care of myself. You don’t look like you’re from the village.” There was another query behind this statement, and Plyrith saw no need to lie about it.

“That’s be because I’m not. I arrived there yesterday. Do you live in Fallholt?” One question in turn for another.

“As if.”

“Then where?”

“Not far from here.” Massa’s gaze flickered to the prince’s side, where his sword was hanging. “Have you come for the dragon?”

“I came to learn about it.” He didn’t tell a lie, not exactly, but withheld some of the truth. He got the feeling that the blond wouldn’t respond well to him outright stating he wanted to kill it.

“Oh.” Massa smiled for the first time, causing Plyrith’s breath to hitch in his throat. “That’s different. There have been many who’ve come to slay it without thought, but none who wished to learn.”

“Do you know something about the dragon?” Plyrith could feel himself becoming more intrigued by the second.

“My grandfather knew much about the Elder Kind. He taught me what he could before his death. The dragon has been here since before the village was built, when the forests were twice what they are now.” He sat on a rock, his eyes beckoning for Plyrith to join him. Not one to bother wasting time, Plyrith pulled his boots off and cut straight through the pool, causing Massa to laugh. It was only when he had made it to dry land again that Plyrith realised he was still holding his damp shirt in his hand.

“Sorry, do you mind if I just put this back on?” He indicated to his shirt. Massa’s head cocked to the right slightly.

“If you must.”

The tone of his voice sent a shiver down Plyrith’s spine and he hastily pulled the item of clothing over his head, settling on a log across from Massa when he’d done. His boots were put aside for later, when his feet had dried off. “What can you tell me then?”

“What do you wish to know?”

“Anything about it. How long has it been here?”

“Like I said, since before the village. He is not an old dragon for his kind, nor a child. The dragon has little interest in the realm of men.”

Plyrith frowned. “But it’s been causing havoc lately. People’s homes are being destroyed, their livelihoods taken from them when the dragon strikes. How is that not an interest?”

“Often times what people perceive as an external threat outside their control, the cause actually lies in their own actions.”

“So the villagers did something to the dragon?”

“You could say that.” Massa played with a piece of moss on the stone he sat on. “Does your mind live solely for the answers of death or do you wish to learn about the dragon itself?”

Had Plyrith upset him in some way? That wasn’t good; Massa was a vital source of information from what he could tell. Living this close to the dragon meant he knew its behaviours and habits better than anybody else in the area so he couldn’t afford for him to leave. “I want to know more of the dragon. Does it sleep during the day or the night? How does it fly when it is so large?”

“The dragon does what it wants when it wants. Sometimes it sleeps during the day, sometimes the night. There’s no way to tell what he’ll decide to do. As for flying,” Massa leant forward slightly and grinned, “it’s _magic_.”

Plyrith raised an eyebrow. “Magic?”

“Certainly. And not magic like the tamed breeds; true magic. Old magic. Far greater than the weak telepathy that is the limit of a dragon’s capabilities nowadays. Though,” he paused, “he can do that as well.”

It had magic? It was becoming harder and harder for him to imagine himself winning the battle with every word Massa uttered. Most dragons could communicate mentally with people they’d bonded with (though not all) so if this one was stronger then maybe Plyrith could talk to it immediately. He might be able to trick it. “Does the dragon have a name?”

Massa hesitated, tilting his head in the most attractive way and smiling. “Perhaps.”

Plyrith felt the shiver run through him again, and though it wasn’t a bad feeling it definitely concerned him as to why he felt it. What was it? Before he had the chance to figure anything out an orange form streaked down from above the trees and landed on the log he sat on. Massa stared at the unusual Whistler as it scrambled onto Plyrith’s shoulder, squawking at the prince’s face. “Sorry,” Plyrith apologised, pushing the dragon out of his line of sight. “I think I need to…” Massa had disappeared. “…go.”

 

 

* * *

 

  

“So the dragon is sentient. Interesting.” Talutah tapped her foot on the floor gently as they ate their midday meal. It was a while after midday, but it still counted.

“What’s so urgent that you had to call me back then?” Plyrith queried, somewhat peeved that his time talking to the strange blond had been cut short. Though he had had every intention to, when it came to actually mentioning Massa to his fianceé he was unable to, keeping the man’s existence a secret and passing off the information he’d provided as observation of the dragon’s behaviour.

“I managed to persuade someone to talk about the priestess–”

“You drugged them, didn’t you?”

She waived his comment away. “Details. Anyway, the dragon started causing trouble about 5 moons ago, right? Turns out that’s when the priestess went missing. Seems she entered the forest one day and never came back.”

“And with her not visiting the dragon began to attack places with humans,” he concluded. “It’s sentient, so perhaps the two were bonded? If she was killed then it might be angry.”

“Seems logical.” She prodded a potato around her wooden bowl, silently lamenting the lack of meat. “I’ve also come up with a plan for the dragon, but I’ll need your help gathering the ingredients.”

“Really? I’m sure Bana could help you with that.”

“Some of the materials are pretty heavy.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“A cow.”

Plyrith paused, his mouth still open and spoon halfway to it. He slowly replaced the utensil in his stew and fixed Talutah with a sceptical stare. “A cow?”

“A cow.”

“You… need a cow.”

“Yes. A dead cow.”

“A _dead_ cow.”

“A very not-living, one-day dead cow. Among other things.”

Plyrith had to admit, it was one of the strangest things he’d had to procure for her in the time they’d been friends, and he’d had to locate some pretty strange items. “What exactly is this plan?”

“Use a spell obviously. It has to be a pretty serious one in order to counteract the dragon’s magic, but the aim is to make it sleep long enough for you to kill it. No one back at the court has to know the details, so you can invent a fight for your pride. It’ll take a couple of days but it should make everything a lot easier.”

Since Talutah no longer seemed to be interested in her food Plyrith quickly finished his own, setting the bowl aside and getting to his feet. “Time to find us a cow then.”

 

 

* * *

 

  

He didn’t know why he’d come back here, to the waterfall. Part of him was hoping Massa would be there, and another part said that it was unreasonable to think that the blond had any intention of meeting him again. Plyrith sighed as he sat on the same log as the previous day, running through Talutah’s list of ingredients again. Three more had been assigned to him: aelvera, spring balm and wolfsbane. He’d made sure to bring his gloves with him in order to collect the last item, since one could suffer the toxic effects even by only touching the plant. He ought to have kept his eyes peeled on the way through the forest but he’d been too distracted with thoughts of Massa to notice whether he’d walked passed any of the herbs. For all he knew, his job could have been completed already.

“You are here again.”

The voice made him jump but upon seeing the blond standing in the trees not too far from him his face quickly morphed into a grin. “Well it’s a lovely place.”

“I know.” Massa stared at him for a while. “Are you here to ask more questions?”

“Ah,” Plyrith pulled at the lobe of his ear, “not really. I came to find a few herbs… Do you think you could help me? I’m not particularly good with plants.”

The blond relaxed. Were their encounters all going to start so awkwardly? Plyrith hoped not. “What do you need to find?”

“Aelvera, spring balm and wolfsbane. Here,” he handed over one of the gloves. Massa turned it over a few times before trying it on, and Plyrith couldn’t help but snicker at how bemused he seemed by it. “It’s to stop you from getting poisoned by the wolfsbane,” he explained.

“Hmm. This way.” He beckoned for him to follow. They made their way through the trees, stopping every now and then to check a cluster of plants for what they needed. If Plyrith found himself short of breath sometimes it was all to do with the hiking, and in no way correlated to whenever Massa was leaning over to take a closer look at the herbs. The prince certainly didn’t bite his bottom lip because of Massa’s decision to tie back part of his hair to prevent it from getting in the way. His heart rate definitely was not increasing every time the blond glanced upward at him through his fringe.

Plyrith was _fine_.

“It’s a strange combination of items you need,” Massa commented when they finally located some wolfsbane, catching the prince off guard.

“Huh? Oh, it’s for my companion,” he admitted, immediately cursing himself for letting some truth slip. He quickly ran through the properties of the herbs to come up with a believable cover story.

“Then your companion has some rather peculiar requirements.”

“She was injured and is having great trouble improving. So aelvera to numb the pain, spring balm to promote healing, and just a tiny bit of wolfsbane to help her sleep better.” Since Massa didn’t seem inclined to enter the village, he was sure he wouldn’t be found out.

Massa paused. “I’m sorry.” His tone made it seem like he wasn’t sure if he was actually sorry or not. “Your companion is… your sister?”

“Fianceé, actually.”

“Oh.” Massa reached for a purple flower and pulled it from the ground. “You are betrothed.”

“It’s just an arranged marriage,” Plyrith added hastily, not sure why it was necessary for a man who was practically a stranger to be aware of that fact. “We get along but she’s just a friend.”

Massa straightened and handed over the wolfsbane and then the borrowed glove. “Then I hope your friend gets better soon.”

 

 

* * *

 

  

“This is disgusting,” Plyrith groaned, wishing he could hold his nose to prevent the smell of rotting from reaching it but not doing so since his hands were covered in the blood of the cow Talutah had had him bring into her room. The true purpose of the spring balm had now taken effect – by setting it alight in the edges of the room the scent of the herb was amplified, preventing anyone else at the inn from realising something foul was in her bedroom.

“Put up with it, you baby,” Talutah mocked, checking her boiling pot to make sure the concoction with the aelvera and wolfsbane and stars knew what else was ready. “Pass me the ash.” He hurriedly obliged, passing her a jar of the grey powder and not really wanting to know what it had once been. She tipped the lot of it into the pot and the mixture thickened in a way it wouldn’t naturally, thanks to the quiet chant spilling from her lips. Without even needing to look she snatched a broad, rubbery leaf and scooped some of the mixture into it, folding the leaf over and tying it shut tightly with thin ribbons of gut that Plyrith had cut from the cow not long ago.

“Now what?” he asked.

“We put it inside,” she answered simply.

“In…?”

“In the _cow_.” She rolled her eyes and forced him aside, pulling the creature’s wound open so that she could place the package snugly between its liver and stomach. Plyrith frowned at the squelching sound made when she removed her arm from its internals. She roughly stitched the major cut closed, chanting all the while. “Done,” Talutah stated proudly. “Now we just wait two days and we’ll be good to go.”

“Two days. Great.”

 

 

* * *

 

  

Plyrith didn’t know what he was doing. What had possessed him to seek out Massa a third time, especially when he no longer had anything he needed from him? He juggled the fruit he was holding from hand to hand, nervous as he approached the waterfall once more.

Massa was already there. Plyrith grinned.

“I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?” he joked to announce his presence.

“Why would you think I’m waiting for you?” Massa wondered, smirking as the prince’s face fell almost imperceptibly.

“You break my heart, you do.” He place a hand on his chest a feigned pain for a moment before chuckling. “Speaking of heart, here; catch.” He threw one of the fruits to Massa, who caught it easily. “Nothing wrong with a good bit of heartfruit.” The blond was staring at the rich red flesh of the food, and Plyrith hoped to the stars that he wasn’t aware of the relative expensive nature of heartfruit – he didn’t want Massa to realise he was showing off. Or did he?

“Hearts are funny things,” Massa said eventually, taking an experimental bite of the fruit, his eyes widening in delight at the sweetness of it.

“I suppose. Do you know what I’ve always wondered though?” Plyrith munched on his own fruit as he plonked down on what was now designated as his log. “Why do dragons have two hearts, when everything else has one? What’s it for?”

“It dates back to the Elder Kind, the ancestors of all modern dragons,” Massa stated, surprising Plyrith slightly. Well he should have expected it. _Never ask an expert a rhetorical question about dragons_ , he told himself.

“Then what did _they_ need them for?” he asked, committed to finding out now that the conversation was on that path.

“The Elder Kind were completely in tune with the world around them,” Massa prefaced, meeting Plyrith’s eyes for a second before focussing his attention on the fruit in his hand and how it caught the light. “Even without being aware of it, their bodies would react to the threads of fate – their bones aching when disaster was about to strike, and such. But the second heart was the only part _specifically_ for signalling a convergence of fate.”

“Which convergence?” Plyrith found himself leaning forward slightly, enraptured by the sound of Massa’s voice when he was explaining things.

“Love, of course. Soulmates.” He looked up and held Plyrith’s gaze for a good while before coughing awkwardly and passing his fruit to the other hand. “The Elder Kinds’ second heart would only begin beating when they met their soulmate. It happened less and less once humans appeared, due to their incessant hunting of the Elder Kind and eradication of true sentience. Not to mention, very few humans have the capability for a soulmate.”

“That explains a lot,” Plyrith chuckled, thinking of the numerous unhappy marriages back home at the court. “But modern dragons, they just have a normal second heart, right?”

“Yes. They beat for no one’s benefit but their own.”

“So do you think the dragon that lives here has both hearts beating or just the one?” Plyrith wondered.

“How is it possible for an Elder Kind to find a soulmate in this day and age?” Massa said bitterly, taking a bite out of his fruit.

“I guess.”

The air was tense between them for a few moments before Massa took a deep breath and tried to restart the conversation. “How’s your fianceé doing?”

“What? Oh, better, better.” Silence filled the air again and Plyrith knew that this time he was the one responsible for breaking it. “So, uh, the innkeeper’s wife was telling her a couple of stories about the town – you know, just little things to take her mind off of things – and she mentioned a priestess coming out into this area of the forest. You wouldn’t have happened to have seen that priestess at all?”

Plyrith immediately knew he’d made a mistake from the way Massa stiffened, juice dripping from the heartfruit as he unintentionally squeezed it too hard. “Curtia,” he mumbled eventually.

“Pardon?”

“Her name was Curtia.” He glared at him. “She was my sister.”

Plyrith cowered slightly under Massa’s feral gaze, cursing himself for making the mistake of bringing up the priestess. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know.”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” he hissed. “Not blood related, after all. The villagers never paid enough attention to her to know about me. Or to know when she was ill and dying.” He cast aside the fruit and stood, still glowering. “Leave. Now.”

“I–”

“ _NOW!_ ” Massa roared, scaring the birds from the trees around them. Plyrith backed off slowly, not wanting to enrage the blond any more than he already had.

What a fool of a prince he was.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Talutah?”

“Hm?”

“Say, in a hypothetical situation, I had upset someone that I really didn’t want to upset. How would I fix it?”

“Well normally, _you_ wouldn’t. What’s gotten into you?”

“Just answer the question.”

“I suppose flowers are usually a good start for most people. But Plyrith–”

“Flowers? Huh.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Plyrith clutched tightly at the long stems of the bunch of wildflowers he was holding, an item he would never be seen dead with anywhere else but this forest. He turned awkwardly on the spot beside the waterfall, wondering how it was that every trip there started with an uncomfortable atmosphere. “Massa?” he called, uncertain as to whether the man would tread near this place now. Taking a deep breath he decided to go through with it anyway, making sure he spoke loudly and clearly just in case the stars were favouring him and the blond was somewhere nearby. “Massa, I’m sorry, I really am! I didn’t mean to offend you! I have… I have flowers for your sister; I’d like to pay my respects…” He found himself trailing off as he was met with nothing but silence, staring down at the hodgepodge of plants he was holding. What was he thinking? There was no way anyone would come back here and risk meeting someone they’d just had a fight with. It had been a waste of time from the start.

And yet…

Massa padded hesitantly out into the tiny clearing, keeping his distance from the prince as if he were going to get hurt by standing too close. “They’re for Curtia?” he queried, not sure whether to believe what he’d heard.

“Yes.” Plyrith poured everything he was trying to say into the one word, which seemed to work as Massa shifted slightly closer.

“Then give them to her.” He pointed at the waterfall. No, not the waterfall, but the rock face beside it. Roughly etched into the wall was the name ‘Curtia’ and below a row of neatly lined up smooth stones marked out her grave. “She’s not buried here,” Massa murmured, finally moving to a comfortable distance. “I burned her body. But this is where I remember her.”

“It is a beautiful place. I’m sure she loves it.” Plyrith moved toward the memorial and knelt before it, laying the flowers gently against the rock. He silently apologised to Curtia for disrespecting her, and apologised for disrespecting her brother, and apologised for an assortment of wrongdoings that he would never have even felt sorry about before entering this forest. When he was done he stood, silently taking Massa’s hand like it was the natural thing to do. “I wish I could have met her,” he confessed.

Massa smiled the most bittersweet smile Plyrith had ever seen. “I wish for that too. She was a sweet girl. Kind.”

“I have to say, I don’t really know what it’s like to have a sister. Is it nice?”

“The best.” Massa paused, then his brow furrowed lightly. “You have no siblings?”

“I have many siblings, perhaps a hundred, but there is no family. Every daughter is cast aside, and every son seeks the throne – half of us have died at the hands of a brother. It’s not what I would call the most nurturing childhood environment.”

“You speak of a noble world and yet it is the wildest life I have ever heard,” Massa observed. Plyrith chuckled.

“Like you’re one to talk, living out here and never going to the village.”

“It suits me, and I harm no one who comes with no intention of harming me.”

“That sounds ideal.”

Massa looked sadly at him. “And yet you still intend to return to your warfare.”

“Yes.” They stood in silence, both staring at Curtia’s grave but neither one thinking of her at that moment. A thought that had sat at the back of Plyrith’s mind now floated to the front through the eddies of his unsettled mind. “Come with me.”

“Pardon?”

“Come back with me. With your knowledge of the Elder Kind you could easily become the most revered Dragon Master in the kingdom. And when I become king I’ll even give you control over every dragon centre we own.”

“Plyrith, I–”

“I get that it’s unreasonable to suddenly leap from here to the city, so why not start smaller?” He pulled on Massa’s hand to lead him toward where Ulise was waiting. “Let’s go to the village, and you can meet Talutah, my fianceé.” Massa visibly winced at the word.

“This really isn’t a good idea,” he insisted, resisting Plyrith’s pulling. “I don’t want to go. I _can’t_ go with you!” Distressed, Massa paid little attention to where he was placing his feet so didn’t steady himself enough when they reached the edge of the water, slipping on a wet stone and falling forward, dragging Plyrith down with him.

The prince found himself lying on his back, half submerged in water and staring up into the most entrancing pair of eyes he’d ever encountered. A curtain of blond hair hung about them, cutting off the outside and leaving them in their own, tiny world where they shared the air and Plyrith swore he could hear both of their heartbeats. Time moved slowly and he was hyperaware of everything that was going on, from the minute current in the pool to the comfortable pressure of Massa’s body on his own. How had he never known something like this existed before? Had he been told and never believed it? Or were they the first to feel like this?

“Plyrith…” Massa began, probably to apologise, but the sound of the blond saying his name now was the last straw for Plyrith; he reached up and dragged Massa’s head down, finally connecting their mouths together.

At first Massa froze from sheer surprise, but he quickly relaxed, returning Plyrith’s passion with an unexpectedly rough conveyance of his own. Slowly Plyrith manoeuvred them both to an upright position, all the while still moving his lips with Massa’s until they finally slowed and broke apart to breathe. What would his family say if they could see him now, sitting in a pool of water with a man on his lap? What would Talutah say? Did he even care?

No.

“Massa…” he murmured, not quite able to focus on anything but the blue of his eyes and the new swollen aspect of his lips. “Massa…” He carded his fingers through the long blond locks he loved so much.

“Plyrith…” His lean form was trembling almost uncontrollably so the prince placed one hand on his hip and the other curled affectionately around his neck to steady him.

“Hush, it’s all right, Massa… Massa?” He frowned, beginning to notice that something was definitely wrong. “Massa are you unwell? You’re burning up.”

It was an understatement. Around them the water began to steam and Massa’s eyes darted around wildly as he panicked. Plyrith hurriedly pushed aside his fringe in order to check whether the heat really was coming from Massa or not but the blond flinched away at the touch, giving Plyrith a glimpse of a black, cross-shaped mark on his forehead that had previously been hidden behind his hair.

“Massa, what–” Before he could even finish his question the man leapt off of him, arms clutched closely to his chest as if to protect himself from something evil. He was shaking his head fervently as he backed off before making a terrified dash into the trees, leaving a dazed and confused Plyrith sitting alone in a pool of sparkling water under the midday sun.

 

 

* * *

 

  

“You’re really out of it today,” Talutah observed that evening as she cut the stitching on the bovine corpse in short, harsh bursts.

“I suppose,” Plyrith muttered, still wondering what had happened. Everything had seemed well before he’d noticed Massa’s unusual fever. Massa actually appeared to be enjoying himself up until the moment Plyrith had made for his forehead. Or perhaps nothing had been good for Massa at all, and Plyrith was just transposing his own feelings onto his partner.

“Stop wallowing and pass me the bowl,” Talutah commanded, pulling the package out of the cow. Plyrith absently slid the bowl of oil over to her and she placed the bundle into the fluid, coating it and, as ever, chanting whilst doing so. “That’s us ready for tomorrow,” she stated, placing it onto the wooden table with a wet slap and wiping the remaining gore and oil from her hands using a towel. “Pull yourself together, Plyrith. You’re a prince – you ought to act like one in times like these.”

“When we’ve just finished desecrating a cow’s body?”

“When we’re preparing to _slay a_ _dragon_. You do remember why we’re here, don’t you?”

“Of course.” Plyrith steeled himself, gripping the hilt of his sword in determination. He would kill this beast and then drag Massa to the city with him, kicking and screaming if he had to. Already he could no longer stand a life without the man in it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Talutah lit the package and placed it in the entrance to the cave. They backed off as she cast a few runes to persuade the wind to blow the smoke into the cave proper, settling down to wait for the spell to take effect. In the right circumstances Talutah could be a viciously cruel woman, but this was not one of them; she’d deliberately included aelvera in her concoction to numb any sensation the dragon might have even as it slept under the effects of the wolfsbane. They waited a good hour before she decided it was safe to move in, Plyrith taking the lead with a lit torch and her following behind with a gentle glow of magic surrounding her. It was in this manner that she first saw the magnificent beast that was a dragon of the Elder Kind – it almost felt a shame to kill it. She ran her hand along the scales of its front leg and to the folded wings, marvelling at the texture and colour of each part of the creature.

“I thought you said it would be asleep,” Plyrith whispered hoarsely. Confused, she followed his gaze to the dragon’s large head, or more importantly, its eyes, which were wide open and staring at them both.

“Oh… I underestimated it.”

“What?”

“A minor miscalculation, nothing more. It may not be asleep, but it’s still paralysed and won’t feel anything. Go on then. With the situation as it is I can’t guarantee how long the spell will actually last, so it’s best to hurry and get it over with.”

“Right.” Plyrith moved forward, drawing his sword for the first time since arriving in the village for anything other than maintaining the blade. He moved right up to the dragon’s neck and sought the ridge of scales on there that would lift slightly, a feature all dragons seem to share, so he could only assume that the Elder Kind sported it too. Finally locating it he pulled it up to widen the gap enough for him to sever multiple arteries cleanly from where he stood and poised his sword to strike. Then he made the mistake of looking over at the dragon.

It was watching him, a terribly sad expression in its great eyes which slid shut slowly as it blinked. Its breathing was slow but he couldn’t tell if that was because the dragon was calm or whether Talutah’s spell was keeping it measured. Once sure of his actions, Plyrith now truly hesitated, a frightful possibility creeping into his mind.

“What are you waiting for?” Talutah asked, genuinely confused as to why he was dawdling. But then, she would be, for he had never spoken a word of the existence of the blond man he’d fallen in love with over the space of a mere four days. It was a ridiculous sounding tale even to his own ears, but a faint inkling of the reason behind it was beginning to reveal itself.

Plyrith let go of the ridge and lowered his sword; still with it in hand, he moved toward the dragon’s head, craning his neck to see the black marking on its forehead that he’d completely forgotten about in all the excitement of seeing a true Elder Kind. Reaching out, carefully balanced on his toes, Plyrith traced the edge of the closest black scale, and the only one he could reach from there. A noticeable shudder ran through the dragon, causing Talutah to start in surprise and ready a defensive spell. The prince held out a hand to stop her from activating it, since it wasn’t necessary. “I am so sorry,” he murmured, just loud enough for Talutah to hear, running his hand over the ridges of the dragon’s face, once again awed by the sheer perfection of it.

He moved toward the body proper; though the head was resting comfortably on the ground, the rest of the dragon was partially rolled on its side, propped up against the cave wall when it had collapsed from the effects of the spell, a string of weak points all lined up and exposed for anyone to kill the beast. Plyrith moved to the space just beside the front legs and placed his hand on the left side of the chest. A dull vibration ran up his arm as a heart more than twice the size of his head beat lazily, ensuring the dragon stayed alive. Hesitantly, and more than slightly scared of what he would find, Plyrith slid his hand further down the dragon’s body and to the centre line, his knees weakening as he felt the distinctive beat of the second heart that was situated there.

“What are you doing?” Talutah hissed. “Have you gone quite mad? Kill it already.”

“I can’t,” he confessed.

“Why not?”

“Because that is not what’s supposed to happen.”

Even in the darkness he could feel Talutah rolling her eyes. “This was your idea, remember? Slay the dragon, win the throne and all that.”

“I know. And I have changed my mind.” He sheathed his sword and fixed her with a hard stare that made her understand that he was deeply serious about this. “How long for the spell to wear off?”

“…I’m not sure. Perhaps an hour or two?”

“Then we wait.” He settled himself against the dragon, leaning on its chest so that the beating of the hearts reverberated throughout his body, forcing his own tiny pump into synchronisation with the dragon. He quickly became drowsy, the gentle heat of the beast’s body compensating for the uncomfortable ground below him and sending him into a dreamless, deep sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

  

_"Are you awake? Wake up.”_

“Be quiet, Talutah, I’m sleeping,” Plyrith mumbled, not aware enough to remember the situation.

_“I am not Firelighter. I cannot move yet but the time has come to talk.”_

Plyrith shifted, confused by the clear sound that he now realised was in his head. It wasn’t Ulise’s voice, with its vague impression of words, but an actual mind speaking directly into his own.

_“Wake up you fool.”_

“I am awake, Massa,” Plyrith replied aloud, causing Talutah’s eyes to gleam in curiosity across the cave. Upon seeing him stir, she began to ready herself for the next stage of whatever it was they were doing with the great beast.

 _“You can speak directly to me, Horizonborne,”_ the dragon said, laughing lightly in his mind. In the physical world his tail twitched, sweeping a few feet across the floor and making Talutah slightly nervous, for she could not hear the conversation and didn’t know anything about the body language of an Elder Kind.

 _“You know my Agnomen, but I have yet to learn yours,”_ Plyrith explained, uncertain as to whether he should call him ‘Massa’ by both tongue and mind.

_“Is this the cause of your hesitation? My Agnomen is Bringing the Great Dawn.”_

“That’s beautiful,” he proclaimed aloud by accident, his head wrapping around the perfection of it. _“But what is the ‘Great Dawn’?”_

_“It has too many meanings to explain now, but the simplest way to describe it, physically, is ‘the horizon’.”_

_“How appropriate,”_ Plyrith mused. _“It fits with the title Keeper of the Wild has given me.”_

 _“No, it is not simply_ appropriate _, nor were you given that Agnomen by any creature.”_ He growled in mild anger at Plyrith’s assumptions, ignoring the effect the sound had on Talutah, who had quickly realised she was missing out on a large part of the dealings. _“Everything has an Agnomen, Horizonborne, but some are unable to perceive their own. Our Agnomina do not match because of coincidence, but because they were designed to. You should understand this by now.”_

_“I do. If only I had a second heart like you, then it would be less frightening to understand.”_

_“Having this heart does not make it any less frightening. I seem to remember scaring you silly out of my cave when we first met. I simply could not fathom what was going on inside my chest. And so I sought the consolation of my memories.”_

_“But I was there,”_ Plyrith interjected, beginning to put everything together.

 _“Yes, and you were the ugliest thing I have ever had the misfortune of seeing,”_ he jibed.

_“Ah now, I know that’s a lie. I seem to recall a certain someone overheating back when–”_

_“That’s quite enough of that!”_ Massa twisted his head around and blew a great deal of smoke into Plyrith’s face in order to stop him from continuing with that train of thought. _“It’s time to focus on the matters at hand; we can reminisce later. It seems that I have regained enough movement.”_ He shook his wings slightly to emphasise his point.

“Plyrith, get away from there,” Talutah warned, holding out a hand for him to take. The pair of them stared at the appendage blankly.

 _“Why does she speak as if you are in danger? Oh.”_ If a dragon was capable of scowling then there was no doubt what Massa was doing currently. _“You did not tell Firelighter anything, did you? Typical.”_ He shifted onto all fours, allowing Plyrith enough time to move away to a safe distance. A slight shimmer in the air alerted him to what Massa was intending to do, and for Talutah’s own sake he turned her to face away from the dragon, ignoring every one of her protestations. That didn’t stop himself from peeking though, and Plyrith’s face was split by a broad grin as he watched Massa’s now human form scamper for his loose clothing, which was thrown in a pile at the back of the cave. “You could have turned around too,” Massa frowned at him as he joined them, startling an unsuspecting Talutah with his voice.

“But did you really want me to?”

Massa smirked. “No.”

“What on Earth did I miss?” Talutah exclaimed. “I feel as if our creator forgot I existed and only just brought me back into the story! Who in the heavens are you?” She jabbed a finger in Massa’s direction, forcing him to lean back if he didn’t want to be stabbed in the nose.

“That’s Massa,” Plyrith explained, “the huge dragon that was just here. Turns out Elder Kind magic means shapeshifting.”

“Among other things,” Massa added. “Plyr, do you have my hair tie?”

“Huh? Oh, I think so.” He reached into his pocket and retrieved the loop of string, which he had unknowingly pulled from Massa’s hair the day before and kept on the off chance he’d want it back. Suspicions proven right, Massa quickly pulled almost all of his hair out of the way and lashed it tightly so that it wouldn’t fall out of the tail without his permission.

“So what do we do now?” Talutah asked. She was slightly put out that she wouldn’t get the ingredients she made the journey for, but the situation gave her a chance to study a living Elder Kind, and if that wasn’t repayment enough then she didn’t know what was.

“You help me fix a mistake that I made. And then,” Massa glanced at the taller man to his side, “I’ll be free to follow you to the ends of the Earth.”

“What mistake?” the witch queried, mentally noting the extremely human traits he was exhibiting in comparison to his animal traits, such as the way he kept ridiculously still.

“My sister. You know her as the priestess. She had been ill for a long time but it was never serious, until 5 moons ago when she entered my forest practically dead already after not visiting for a full fortnight. Within hours she passed away.”

“And you want us to fix that?” Perhaps he had an unreasonable expectation of humans?

“No, there’s no changing the fact that she died.” Plyrith placed a sympathetic arm around his shoulders and Massa instinctively leaned into the warmth. “I need you to fix what I did _after_ that.”

“What did you do?” Plyrith asked, hoping it wasn’t too bad and yet already knowing that it was.

“I…” Massa cringed at his own memories. “I caught her soul and trapped it in a wild dragon.” Plyrith and Talutah both couldn’t help wincing at this news. “I don’t know what I was thinking – I knew it was a terrible thing to do but I wasn’t thinking straight. Part of me was hoping that, I don’t know, she would be able to live with me properly in her new form. But all I did was drive her insane.”

“What type of dragon did you use?” Plyrith asked. It was important he knew what they’d be facing, and as long as it wasn’t the body of another Elder Kind then he figured he could manage it.

“A Goliath.”

Scratch that. Plyrith would rather take on the Elder Kind. Goliath’s were the third largest species of modern dragon, but unlike its superiors was not placid or calm in any sense; Goliath’s were brutal, attacking for the mere sake of attacking. They didn’t even qualify as a battledragon, they were too uncontrollable, and there were no recorded successes at taming one, leaving them the sole true wild dragon. The only comfort was their extremely small population size making it highly unlikely they’d been encountered but once they were... prayer was the only hope.

“I guess that explains the dragon attacks,” Talutah concluded. “An already crazy dragon driven even more insane by the extra soul trapped inside of it. Perfect.”

“I know,” Massa agreed. “I protected Curtia for this long, hoping she would eventually become herself again but I know there’s no going back for her. She’s truly become Running with Your Demons.” He sniffed. “I guess that Agnomen never did make much sense to me when she was alive. Now I understand.”

“Don’t fret; we’ll save her soon,” Plyrith assured. “How do we find her?”

“She’ll come when I call. I don’t know if it’s because she recognises me or if it just angers her but… she always comes. You can fight in the clearing outside if you want.”

“Will you be fighting with us?” Talutah asked.

“Please, I know this is selfish, but don’t ask me to kill my sister. I can’t hurt her anymore.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of it.” Plyrith pulled him close and placed a reassuring kiss on his forehead, right where the cross was in this form. Talutah raised an eyebrow at the action but said nothing, knowing that despite being the prince’s betrothed she held no sway over the man himself.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you ready?” Massa asked for the final time, waiting for them both to nod. He took a deep breath and yelled for his sister, forcing the two humans to cover their ears as he was emitting the utterly draconic cry. They had developed a plan without his help, and looking around the clearing in front of his cave he could see the faint glimmers of runework scattered about. From the looks of things it was a triple-layered barrier, an impressive feat for one human to set up so quickly, let alone control. “You have maybe a minute before she arrives,” Massa warned. Talutah nodded and threaded her charmed necklace through her fingers. Massa pulled Plyrith in for a light kiss, whispering a thank-you in his ear before they parted, Massa leaving the ring of runes and the prince making directly for the centre of it, waving his sword about in meaningful patterns to get in the right mindset.

A horrific screeching sounded from over the treeline, awful even to a dragon’s ears, and the possessed Goliath came hurtling over the clearing once, twice, and then she dove, straight for Plyrith. He dodged out the way but not so far that the dragon would lose interest in him. He needed to distract Curtia long enough for Talutah to activate her barrier and then it would close in, limiting their movement steadily enough that the beast wouldn’t notice anything was wrong until it was too late.

Plyrith tried to get a good look at the Goliath as he fought her; the pitch scaling was an intensely unnerving mutation, highlighted with streaks of red and brown, gashes carved into the dragon when splintered wood beams had caught on the weaker points of the armour as she crashed through the houses she was responsible for destroying. Her claws were ridiculously hefty, designed for keeping prey down as she tore them apart while still alive. The rows of serrated teeth in Curtia’s mouth still had pieces of rotting meat stuck between them, and her multitude of once-white horns were battered from altercations with other creatures and mankind. The worst part though was her eyes, which darted around frantically and barely settled for a moment to focus on anything. It was the true sign of insanity in this animal, and the original soul as well as Curtia’s deserved to be put to rest immediately.

Plyrith’s back hit an invisible wall and he cursed, having underestimated Talutah’s speed for contracting the barriers. He took advantage of the beast not realising the walls were close by and waited for her to strike, sliding underneath and scrambling up behind her. She was facing away but there was no point attacking the back, since very few weak points could be found there. The most reasonable was where the neck joined the head, but that meant getting too close to the range of her claws. In the end it would come down to a split second decision the moment the beast first became trapped but Plyrith could still move.

That moment was fast approaching, he could tell by the lack of space he had to escape and the slowness of the Goliath turning to find him. This was the most dangerous time, when he couldn’t actually leave the beast’s reach and so couldn’t spare any thought to a kill. Defence was a priority. Plyrith ducked and weaved through the dragon’s attacks, occasionally getting clipped by the claws and tail but never anything hugely serious. One attack drew a pretty deep gash on his chest and Plyrith imagined he could hear Massa cry out in panic, which was peculiarly comforting for the situation. Curtia let out a furious roar as she found herself unable to move toward her downed enemy to finish him off; this was it. He had to act quickly before she figured out a way to circumvent her predicament.

Plyrith got to his feet and leapt from where he was standing to the Goliath’s front claw, then to the shoulder, then the neck. He roughly yanked at the same ridge he would have exploited to kill Massa earlier and, gripping his sword firmly, drove it through Curtia’s throat.

Talutah had heard the death throes of a dragon many times before, but none of those could ever compare to the atavistic rage and heart-wrenching sorrow in the Goliath’s last cry, which quickly faded to a wail and then to silence. Plyrith, breathing heavily as the adrenaline began to fade from his body, carefully withdrew his sword from the steaming flesh and jumped down from the corpse. He knelt beside it as he cleaned the blade, a sign of respect that dragon slayers observed after making a kill. His mind wandered back to when he was standing in front of Curtia’s memorial, and he offered one last apology for what he had had to do, but also a pledge of gratitude, for the stories of Curtia’s rage were the reason they’d travelled here and allowed him to meet Massa. He could never be more grateful to anyone.

From the corner of his eye he saw Massa kneel beside him, saying his final goodbye to the soul that had once been his family. Plyrith made a vow that he would never leave the blond like that, and pulled him into a gentle embrace. Dragons could not cry in the way humans could and that held true even in this form, so Plyrith held him closer as Massa’s mournful keening rang through his mind. Perhaps it was intentional, but most likely not, that Talutah could hear it too. She didn’t join them, keeping a respectful distance from the pair and the last sign that the priestess Curtia had ever been alive.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Plyrith didn’t know if he’d ever woken to a more content sight. Massa was curled into his side, radiating a comfortable warmth and practically purring in his sleep, his form just visible in the dying light of the sole candle still it in the room. His head was nestled on the prince’s upper arm with one of his own thrown across the man, as if to make it abundantly clear to anyone else who saw them that he had claimed him for his own. Plyrith didn’t mind in the slightest and he sighed happily, beginning a relaxed motion of stroking Massa’s blond locks, the dragon pushing into his touch through pure reflex. Massa’s eyes flickered for a moment before sliding open and staring into Plyrith’s.

 _“My Horizonborne,”_ he smiled in greeting, blinking lazily as if nothing else mattered but right then.

 _“My Bringing the Great Dawn,”_ Plyrith replied, a deep sense of pleasure at not only being able to call him by his true Agnomen, but also prefacing it with that one tiny word that meant a whole lot. _“It is time to get up.”_

 _“And if I don’t want to?”_ Massa grinned mischievously and rolled himself so that he was laying on Plyrith completely, reminiscent of the events leading to their first kiss. The prince raised an eyebrow at the movement but didn’t exactly object to it.

 _“Then shall have to make you get up,”_ he pointed out. Talutah was in the next room over, probably waiting for them to meet her so that they could finally leave Fallholt for good. It had been her idea to leave during dark, seemingly because she had managed to get on the wrong side of some guild or other during her time in the village and suspected they would be waiting to ambush her in the morning. That was her own fault though, and nothing to do with him.

 _“Make me? And just how are_ you _going to make me do anything?”_ If Massa had a tail in this form Plyrith was certain he’d see it swishing from side to side proudly, in conjunction with the animalistic grin the blond wore, teeth gleaming in the dim light.

_“Shall we find out?”_

If Talutah suspected that their excuse of oversleeping was a lie, she did very well not showing it. Her irritation was a different matter, however, and she hastened them both out of the inn as quickly as was possible, Bana circling angrily around their heads to emphasise her emotion. The group hurried out to the edge of the forest where Ulise was waiting for them, ready to leave immediately, the first glimmers of daytime beginning to fall on the surrounding trees.

“No,” Massa protested, refusing to get onto the Jekyll’s back.

“Massa, it’s only for five days and then we’ll be at the castle,” Talutah pointed out.

“And I still say no. I can get you there much faster and,” he glanced over at Plyrith, “didn’t you want to earn enough attention to become king? What could be more intimidating than returning on the back of an Elder Kind?” He grinned as though he were plotting something and Plyrith rolled his eyes, knowing there was no way to stop him once his mind was set on something.

“Go on then.”

Talutah sighed and turned away as Massa stripped, the blond throwing his clothes to Plyrith for him to pack, along with an impish wink, and shuddering as he shifted forms. Within moments the two humans found themselves in the shadow cast by the monster of a dragon, Massa’s head snaking down to lie on the ground beside Plyrith, twin trails of smoke spiralling up from his nostrils.

 _“This is the easiest way to get on,”_ Massa admitted, his irises facing the sky to indicate that they should walk up his head to reach his back. Talutah went first, initially hesitant but steadily moving faster as she realised that though Massa’s scales gleamed like they were smooth, they were actually finely grooved and provided enough grip for one to not fall off. She eventually settled in a naturally created hollow beside the spine where the base of Massa’s neck faded into his body proper; it wasn’t as comfortable as a proper saddle but it would suffice to contain them for the journey. Once he saw that the witch had stopped moving, Plyrith followed after her, pausing to press his lips lightly against the sensitive scaling around Massa’s mouth before actually standing on his head. Massa huffed his gratitude for the gesture and waited until he was absolutely certain the two of them (and Bana, who was perched on one of his spines) were settled before lifting his head to face the sun. Plyrith had already told him the previous day that they would need to head due east in order to reach the capital city, which was a simple enough direction to remember.

Plyrith’s sense of the ground wavered as Massa’s weight shifted to his back claws and Ulise was gripped tightly in one of them, the Elder Kind’s hold so authoritative that the Jekyll didn’t even bother to squirm. Massa’s muscles coiled as he prepared for the powerful first leap, launching them into the air and only then spreading his wings wide, eliciting a gasp from Talutah and surge of surprised pride in Plyrith. The membrane stretched smoothly from his bones to his body, slightly translucent and riddled with blood vessels that only made the colouration more impressive, phasing through rich oranges and golds to soft pinks and even whites. As they climbed higher so did the sun, painting everything above the ground with the same palette and Plyrith realised how, from afar, Massa could be seen as living part of the spectacular dawn, making his Agnomen even more perfect than he had already thought.

Plyrith soared toward his home, borne by the horizon itself and madly in love with him.


End file.
